


Old Wounds

by Patcho418



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, In which Catra still feels lots of guilt over the things she's done, Post-Canon, after the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24409786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patcho418/pseuds/Patcho418
Summary: Her eyes shift towards the massive moat in front of the palace: it was here, almost three years ago, that they fought with claws and swords as sharp as their hurt words. Almost three years ago, their relationship was shattered. Maybe even forever, Adora remembers having thought at the time, and the pieces are coming back together but there are holes and cracks that have yet to be filled between them, spaces between their entwined fingers and swollen lips where words from three years ago hang unspoken by either of them.(Some post-canon angst based on my personal headcanon that Adora's still got lots of scars from the war; partly inspired by the PVRIS song 'Old Wounds')
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 166





	Old Wounds

Adora twirls again in front of the mirror, her thoughts on the outfit she’s put together for the victory party tonight and if it’s any good. Her and Catra had both agreed to wear red (after some prompting by Bow since all the cutest couples apparently match), and as much as she likes her accessories and her hair, she’s not sure the dress is really doing it for her.

She twirls again; the gold and white accents do pull the look together a bit, but she’d be lying if she said the dress didn’t show off quite a bit. Like, a _lot_ , actually. There’s a slit up the side big enough for her whole leg to stick out and the back is loose and low, displaying the array of faint scars stretched across her skin.

Those scars. Some are old, and most days she forgets about them. Others are fresh, still a little bit raised and pink. But, old or new, they’re there and she can see them when she turns her back to the mirror and looks over her shoulder. They’re a stark reminder of pain she’s long-since moved away from, but looking at them she can’t help but wonder if this is the kind of pain she’ll ever be rid of in her life.

The war had certainly taken its toll, even she’s smart enough to know that. People were hurt, people _still_ hurt, and while everyone is working to rebuild there are things that have happened that persist in the minds of those affected. Battles where loved ones were lost, arguments with friends that turned sour and bitter and destructive, and Catra…

She sighs, turning her head away from the mirror, away from the confusing sight. She knows Catra’s changed, working alongside the people she used to wage war against to rebuild Etheria after the destruction the war had caused. It’s easy to fall for her when Adora thinks of how much she’s grown, how proud she is of how far she’s come since her darker days, how tenderly Catra holds her when they’re alone in their shared bed as if she’s careful not to hurt someone again.

It’s that exact feeling that confuses her right now. Catra is so gentle with her, but it’s scared and timid gentleness, and they both know exactly why. They both know when the scars of all their battles have long since settled into their skin and neither has the courage to break that wall down. It’s all bliss and love right now, and the one thing neither of them wants is to ruin it with remembering how vicious it used to be between them. How painful those strikes and scratches were when they were laced with so much vitriol. How scared they’d both been of losing each other forever.

Adora turns her head back to the mirror, to the scars on her back, and wonders if maybe she could just throw on a blanket and pretend she’s cold or something to avoid having to show off her sorrows to everyone at the party—

“Adora, what’s taking you so long?” Catra calls from the doorway, and the moment Adora’s eyes turn to her she’s faced with the exact expression she wore just a moment ago.

“Catra,” Adora murmurs, letting her misgivings air on that single word before a slight smile spreads across her lips. “Sorry, I was just…do you think my hair looks fine?”

Catra looks away from her, her hands shoved into her pockets as her eyes try to find stability away from Adora’s. Adora has always been good at reflecting her thoughts away, and Catra has always been good at not dwelling on them, and she thinks maybe this and only this is why they work.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Catra says in a small voice, her eyes still trailing on the ground and darting between spots before she lets out a defeated sigh. “You look great, Adora. Really.”

Adora blushes at the compliment, but can’t help but linger on the dejection laced between the words. “I didn’t know if the open back was too much. Or this big slit up the side. Do you think it’s too much? Like, what is Mermista even doing with this in her wardrobe, yennow?”

“It’s great, really,” Catra continues, her gaze finally falling upon Adora, and she can see the obvious strain of tears she’s holding back. “I, uh…”

She stops, her words heavily falling from her mouth and onto the ground without so much as a moment to linger, yet her gaze does, and it hurts to look at when Adora doesn’t know what to say about what Catra just walked in on. Maybe she should change, as ‘great’ as she looks. She knows she’ll only cause Catra more pain like this.

Catra approaches with light steps and holds a gloved hand out for her. Her smile is simple, but her eyes are veiled. “Let’s just get to this stupid party, okay? Sparkles will be pissed if we’re late.”

“Since when did you ever care about being on-time for anything?” Adora teases, taking her hand; she notices the way Catra’s fingers hardly curl around hers, how she doesn’t even try to pull Adora closer.

Still, the act persists, and Adora steps forward as she leads Catra out of her room.

The walk between them is silent, and not the comfortable kind they enjoy in their tender moments together. It’s stale, or tense, or dreadful, and Adora’s mind remains completely aware of how Catra holds herself just a little smaller or how loose her fingers feel entwined with hers. Of _course_ Adora knows why, but it’s so hard to bring up to her when she feels like even looking at them has reopened old wounds they’d rather have left sealed as they continued to exist in blissful paradise.

She gives Catra’s fingers a gentle squeeze, and Catra looks over at her, slow surprise dawning on her face before she shoots Adora a quick smirk and returns her attention to the ground before them.

Adora sighs; even just a glimpse of her expression is enough to show her how loud her thoughts are, echoing around them in these great halls and crushing them both under the weight of guilt they should have let go of by now. And yet, she doesn’t say anything, and those loud thoughts are the only thing that accompany them on their walk to Bright Moon’s ballroom.

By the time they reach the party, the tension between them is almost palpable, and Adora can’t help but reach for Catra’s shoulder like she’s done countless times before.

“Listen,” she begins, and from there her words become jumbled in her mind and on her tongue, and the last thing she wants to do is make Catra feel guilty or hurt—at least, not any more than she already must feel.

Catra tilts an ear towards her. “I’m listening?”

Adora sighs. “Let’s just have fun tonight, okay? This party’s for all of us, for everyone who helped save Etheria and the universe. That includes you, okay?”

Catra nods, though it’s more in acknowledgement than understanding. “I hardly did much.”

Adora quirks an eyebrow at her and gives her a teasing smirk. “I mean, you did kinda kiss me and tell me you love me.”

“Pfft, so what?”

“So you did _also_ turn me into She-Ra by doing that.” Adora’s response is quick and playful, and it’s so easy to fall for Catra when she sees her face flush red.

“I didn’t know you’d do that! I was just, you know, afraid to lose you or whatever. I didn’t know you’d go all sparkly and tall!” Catra rebounds with a scoff, which prompts Adora to snicker and for a moment forget that they’d ever fought each other.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell _anyone_ about how you saved me with the power of love,” Adora says with a quick squeeze of her shoulder.

Catra doesn’t shoot back with a tease of her own, nor does she sneer playfully at the comment. Instead, her eyes fall sadly and she brings her hand up to Adora’s, carefully brushing against it but never taking it in her own.

“I love you, Adora,” Catra says, but all Adora can hear in those words is _‘I’m sorry I ever hurt you’_.

Adora skates her thumb along Catra’s, feeling the bristles of fur on her hand rise at the touch, and she’s careful too, careful not to give Catra any reason to pull back or shrink away or fall into the habit of lashing out.

“I love you too, Catra,” and Adora only hopes Catra can hear the words she means as she guides her through the doors.

* * *

When she finally has a moment to herself, Adora slips away from the conversations and the celebrating and the surprisingly delicious punch King Micah made to find Catra. She’d said she was going for some fresh air while Adora talked with Perfuma and Mermista about something Sea Hawk had done recently that Adora didn’t really want to hear about but was already in the conversation.

She quickly finds her outside on one of the many balconies overlooking the Whispering Woods, arms crossed in front of her over the railing as her tail sways back and forth drowsily; to anyone else, she’d hardly look troubled, but Adora knows otherwise. She knows Catra, at least.

Adora closes the door behind her and approaches, and Catra’s ear immediately twitches before she turns to face her.

“Hey Adora,” she purrs in a playful tone that’s obviously hiding some upset.

“I thought I’d find you up here,” Adora says, joining her at the railing. “You didn’t climb, did you?”

“As if! This place is a nightmare for climbing, it’s all flat surfaces and stuff.”

Adora rolls her eyes warmly at Catra’s gripe and puts her hand gently on top of hers. “I’ll tell Glimmer to install some climbing bars for you.”

“Shut up!” Catra snorts as she shoves Adora, laughing one moment and then going icily quiet the next.

Adora stumbles back and stifles her own laughter when Catra’s abruptly ends, and she quirks an eyebrow at her as she straightens her back. They’re still there, in that uncomfortable space where Catra’s pulling things back and Adora’s too scared to bring them up. They’re still there, in that hallway on the way to the party where even making jokes and touching each others’ skin brings old wounds back to the fore and uncomfortable silence is easily more bearable than words that could cut.

Catra sighs. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“No, it was fine. You don’t have to apologize, Catra,” Adora dares to tell her.

It pays off, and for once Catra doesn’t immediately slap her words away with a scoff or a snort. “But I do. I have so much to apologize for, Adora.”

Adora’s heart pangs with guilt. She wants to tell Catra not to worry about it, that she’s already done so much to prove herself and to fix the mistakes she’s made, but it’s hard when the back of her dress opens her scarred skin up to the cool winds breezing against them and she’s taken back to the searing pain she felt there years before.

Her eyes shift towards the massive moat in front of the palace: it was here, almost three years ago, that they fought with claws and swords as sharp as their hurt words. Almost three years ago, their relationship was shattered. Maybe even forever, Adora remembers having thought at the time, and the pieces are coming back together but there are holes and cracks that have yet to be filled between them, spaces between their entwined fingers and swollen lips where words from three years ago hang unspoken by either of them.

Years later, they’re among the stars. Adora’s faced with a Catra that isn’t hers, isn’t _her_ , and after she’s thrown herself at Horde Prime’s mercy in a selfless act she’d feared Catra would never be able to come back from. There’s that searing pain in her back, tearing through flesh and clothing in a mockery of who Catra is; to this day, she wonders just how much of Catra was trying to reach her through those claws deep in her flesh.

The stars are bright now and dot the black sky above them, another sign of change—a sign that pushes Adora to dare again.

“Maybe you do,” she begins—not the strongest, she thinks, but intimate words are a whole different ballpark than heroic speeches, “but you can’t forget about all the good you’ve already done, Catra.”

She dares with her words, lets them sift towards Catra as she waits for her to reciprocate.

Instead, Catra pulls back again and turns her own attention to the star-speckled sky. “I can still see the spot where I almost obliterated the Alliance.” Adora follows her gaze, and her heart sinks just a little at how easy it is to find what she’s looking at. “And that’s just one spot. I’ve done the tour enough times to be reminded of all the others.”

She turns and rests her back against the balcony railing. Her eyes glisten with frustrated tears, and just once Adora wishes Catra would let herself cry instead of pushing her tears back.

“Mermista _still_ won’t say a single word to me, Frosta _still_ keeps watching me wherever I go, and things between me and Scorpia have _never_ been more awkward—”

“Scorpia hugs you, like, every time she sees you,” Adora corrects, or at least she hopes she does.

Catra scoffs sadly. “Trust me, Adora, she’s still walking on eggshells around me.” Her eyes dip to the floor as her expression shifts to a much more hurt look. “And I’m the one that did that to her. Me! I have so much shit to unpack with her…with all of you. I don’t even know where to start.”

Adora’s quick to take Catra’s hand in her own, and is met with a soft purr instead of a violent recoil. “Start with me, then.”

There’s a moment where Catra’s eyebrows tilt up in confusion as her lips spread thin. “Uh, are you sure about that Adora?”

“Positive,” Adora replies resolutely, straightening her back against the memory of pain, against any doubts she has of Catra in this moment. She dares to step closer—she hopes Catra knows what it means, that she means to stay—and Catra shares the dare by relaxing her shoulders and curling her fingers between Adora’s, the pads of her fingers resting against her knuckles.

“You know, you’re super confident for someone facing the woman who hurt you so much—”

“Catra.”

Catra grumbles in annoyance, but her expression betrays reluctance moreso than anything else. Adora understands, or she hopes she does, and knows that even with Catra trying her best it’s hard for her to put her feelings into words.

Maybe, she thinks, Catra needs to show it some other way. Words have failed them time and time before, but it was Catra’s near-lifeless body resting against her chest that awoke She-Ra in her after she thought she’d lost her, and it was Catra’s kiss in the Heart of Etheria that brought her back, and sometimes even Adora thinks words have messed them up in the past.

Instead of words, Adora offers a gentle tug of her hand. Catra’s cheeks flush pink and she watches intently as Adora slowly pulls her hand towards her chest, then just against her side under her arm, and finally brings it to rest against her exposed shoulder blade before letting go.

Catra’s breath hitches, and for a moment there’s that danger of her recoiling like she can feel the searing pain she left there before, but Adora’s skin runs with chills at her touch and the coolness of the night around them subdues any burning she may feel reaching out from the past. Right now, in the cool present, there is only her and Catra, her shaking hand resting still against old wounds that have long since been stitched and faded into her skin, and the future fluttering in her chest as she waits for Catra to say or do something.

A moment passes, and Adora wonders maybe if old wounds are indeed enough to keep them tethered to the guilt of the past. Maybe Catra is right: there’s so much to unpack even between them, so many things left unspoken from before they exchanged confessions of love, from when they were at each others’ throats and anything remotely ‘future’ was a dream more than a possible reality, from before there was ever a sword or a She-Ra and the cold, gripping shadows of the Fright Zone pushed down against their feelings as cruelly as they could.

Old wounds press into Catra’s fingers, and hope and despair fill Adora’s chest and her veins, and before she has any moment to despair further about moving on, Catra’s pulling her forward and leaning her forehead against Adora’s.

“I love you, Adora,” and this time it isn’t laced with another apology, but with a promise. They’ve made promises before, but this one is subtle and resolute, barely a whisper between words, but Adora’s able to pick up on it immediately.

“I love you too, Catra,” and this time it isn’t a plea for Catra to understand her, but a confirmation of that promise Catra makes to her, and a determination that Adora will be with her every step of the way as she works to maintain it.

The promise is sealed between their lips, at first a quick kiss that Adora is more than eager to follow up with a deeper, more earnest kiss of her own. She quickly tilts her head to take more of Catra in, all the same letting Catra guide her forward with her fingers curled against her back. The subtle words of their promise weave between their lips, settled into the small gasps of air they take when they quickly break before diving back into the kiss again, and Adora can’t help but think of the future she gets to share with her and the pride that swells in her heart when she thinks of how far they’ve come.

Catra’s hand falls lower down her back, and she shudders as it comes to rest at the small of her back. Adora lets herself fall into Catra’s touch, timid as it may be, and grins into their kiss, prompting Catra to hold her closer, firmer.

“This is nice,” Catra murmurs against Adora, a low purr of peace in her voice.

Adora glides her cheek along Catra’s, letting her tufts of fur brush faintly against her skin, and presses a small, hot kiss just beneath Catra’s ear. “It’ll be nicer when I take you back to my room after the party.”

“Adora!” Catra giggles, then relaxes against her with a hum of pleasure as her lips find purchase at the corner of her jaw. “Princess of Power taking an ex-Horde Officer to her room for the night? People are going to talk.”

“Let them.” Adora’s voice drops low, and she can feel the way Catra’s skin burns at the contact of her lips.

Catra hums again and tilts her head up to give Adora more space to pleasure her. “You really are bad.”

Adora smirks, then chuckles, then pulls away, though her hands remain on Catra’s shoulder and collar. “Am not!”

“Are too!” Catra shoots back with an equally cocky smirk.

Adora leans closer to her. “You take that back!”

Catra, closer. “Make me.”

Maybe it’s that Adora can’t resist a challenge, or maybe it’s the temptation with which Catra’s voice drips; whatever it is, it hardly matters when Adora goes in for another kiss, passionate and playful and everything she can want from Catra underneath the brilliant stars. It’s easy to forget about the lacerations staining her skin when she’s kissing Catra, when she feels how desperately close Catra pulls her and how endearing the soft vibrations of her purrs are against her lips. After all, there are stars in the sky and wounds that are healing and Adora’s sure that she loves Catra, past transgressions be damned.

And she knows Catra’s changing, too. She’s working hard to be better, to be more than just her past actions. Adora’s forgiven her already, and the others will too. Maybe it’ll take more time than Catra wants it to, but she’s seen her patience grow and her desire to do good drive her these past few weeks. Maybe, for now, the best way Adora can encourage her is with her love.

After all, Adora’s always been the type to give. And in this case, peppering Catra’s hot skin with kisses and gliding her hands through her hair, there’s something to be said for receiving, too, that helps her find solace in all that’s come before. Between every kiss down her neck, she hears the words in her head— _you are worth more than what you’ve done_ —and in the purrs and hums of pleasure in Catra’s throat she can hear her own admissions— _I promise I’ll do my best_ —and she doesn’t even need to hear the words themselves to be caught up in them, _enraptured_ by them.

She loves Catra, and she’ll continue to love Catra, old wounds and all.

* * *

“Adora?”

Catra’s voice settles into the serene quiet around them, hardly disturbing it with its tranquil sincerity.

Adora hums, prompting her to say whatever it is that she wants to say. Here, in Adora’s room, under the warm blankets and with Catra’s fingertips grazing over her open back, she knows she can bare all of herself to Catra (and she only hopes Catra can do the same).

She reaches up and takes Catra’s hand in her own, stopping its circuit on her back with a light squeeze. “Yeah?”

“I think we should talk about…you know…”

It’s hardly enough to break the stillness between them, but Adora’s known that this would come up soon enough. She’d been waiting for it ever since Catra laid eyes on those scars, though she hopes she hadn’t pushed Catra into talking about something she wasn’t ready to talk about.

Adora turns onto her other side and faces Catra, catching immediately the earnest gaze her eyes hold. “You’re sure?”

Catra presses her lips and rolls her eyes. “I mean, I wanted to earlier but you kept kissing me.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining, though,” Adora teases, giving her hand another light squeeze.

“You barely gave me time to complain!”

“Oh, so you’re saying you would’ve complained?”

“Dork,” Catra grumbles with an amused smile gracing her lips, which falls quickly enough into a concerned frown. “I saw you staring at them in the mirror. When you were getting ready for the party.”

A dismayed sigh escapes Adora’s mouth. She had been staring, and she wasn’t exactly subtle about it. Promises and all, that still happened. Before sweet words and kisses were exchanged on a starlit balcony in the middle of a party, that still happened. And now they’re together, in bed, all of her bared to Catra—and all of her includes these old wounds she curses for holding them back, even by just the faintest amount.

“I’m sorry,” Adora admits. “I thought about changing into something else. I know you’ve been working so hard on being better, I didn’t want to remind you of them.”

Catra scoffs quietly. “Still looking out for me, huh?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

This time, the stillness between them is taught, worrying, and Adora feels like pulling away and hiding behind heroic words or tender kisses or ways that she can’t mess up how far they’ve already come.

Catra sighs, her eyes falling from Adora’s face to their joined hands on Adora’s side. “I appreciate it. I guess.”

“You…guess?”

“Well—I mean, I _guess_ you looking out for me never felt…” Her mouth hangs open for a moment, her eyes darting between Adora’s confused gaze and her shoulder and all over the room where the words might appear to her out of thin air.

“You used to always try and protect me from the bad things, but I could protect myself. And now, you’re trying to protect me from the horrible things I’ve done. I can’t always protect myself from those. And I appreciate that you help make them feel less…doom-y. Like I can change, and it’ll be okay.”

“It will be okay,” Adora reaffirms, bringing her hand up to cup Catra’s cheek as she strokes the tufts of fur just under her jaw. “I’ll be here, and so will Glimmer, and Bow, and Melog, and everyone else who wants to see you change. You’ve already come so far. _We’ve_ already come so far.”

Catra’s lips part into a loving smile, and she scoffs, and quickly chuckles, and soon Adora can feel warm tears against her thumb.

“I love you, Adora,” and it’s not an apology, and it’s not a promise, but it makes Adora’s heart swell all the same.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
